


Anything Except Sacrilege

by KeevaCaereni



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, The Birthday of the World - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sedoretu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeevaCaereni/pseuds/KeevaCaereni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta need no other to complete them. Sedoretu AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything Except Sacrilege

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freakishlytallaustralian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakishlytallaustralian/gifts).



> For Mandi. I'm sorry it's so dreadfully late, love.

> Note for readers unfamiliar with the planet O:
> 
> Ki'O society is divided into two halves or moieties, called (for ancient religious reasons) the Morning and the Evening. You belong to your mother's moiety, and you can't have sex with anybody of your moiety.
> 
> Marriage on O is a foursome, the sedoretu — a man and a woman from the Morning moiety and a man and a woman from the Evening moiety. You're expected to have sex with both your spouses of the other moiety, and not to have sex with your spouse of your own moiety. So each sedoretu has two expected heterosexual relationships, two expected homosexual relationships, and two forbidden heterosexual relationships.
> 
> The expected relationships within each sedoretu are:
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening man (the "Morning marriage")
> 
> The Evening woman and the Morning man (the "Evening marriage")
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening woman (the "Day marriage")
> 
> The Morning man and the Evening man (the "Night marriage")
> 
> The forbidden relationships are between the Morning woman and the Morning man, and between the Evening woman and the Evening man, and they aren't called anything, except sacrilege.
> 
> It's just as complicated as it sounds, but aren't most marriages?
> 
> \-- [Mountain Ways by Ursula le Guin](http://www.ursulakleguin.com/Birthday_Excerpts.html#Mountain)

They meet at a gathering in La Musain. Bossuet is jovial, and Joly immediately becomes fond of him. For his part, Bossuet is equally enamoured of Joly. Joly is caring and inquisitive. They are both Morning, and their shared interest in the welfare of mankind endears them each to the other. They soon become inseparable, leaning against the wall in La Musain and bickering with Bahorel and Grantaire, eyes wide at the future Enjolras paints for them. Joly understands why Grantaire loves him so; Enjolras could rival the masters at painting castles in the sky with his words.

It is natural for them to be intimate friends; they are both Morning and it is plain to see that they could make a good half of a sedoretu one day, given the greatest of luck. What is not natural is how Joly feels about Bossuet. He tries to hold back, but it is no use; Joly knows himself well. One day he will make an overture, and either his friend will abandon him, or he will damn them both.

When it finally happens, they are sitting in Joly's room after a meeting at La Musain. They have both been drinking steadily, but Joly knows better than to blame his actions on the alcohol. He does not blame them on Bossuet, either. When he leans over and into Bossuet, folds his hand over Bossuet's own, it is because he cannot stop thinking about him, and what they could have. It is because his hands itch, for once not because of some illness, but because he wishes to touch. To hold, and to be held.

His heart tells him that God would not have made him this way without reason. He has loved no one this way before, and if that makes him damned, then he will greet Lucifer smiling. When Bossuet does not denounce him, and instead turns his hand so their palms meet in a palmer's kiss, he risks pressing his lips against his. Bossuet surges forward, and all Joly's fears turn to giddy relief that his desires are reciprocated. He tugs Bossuet down onto the bed.

If afterwards they are more careful in public to maintain a decent amount of space between them, if they are not so openly intimate as before, it is a small price to pay to have such freedom behind locked doors. They have each other, and they have their friends, and perhaps one day they will find a pair of Evening revolutionaries who will love them despite their love for one another. Joly tries to believe it.

They hear news of a pair dragged out into the streets and stoned to death, and no police to stop it because they were both Evening. Enjolras is incandescent with rage that such an execution took place with no trial but that of the mob. Bossuet is smiling, but his mouth is tight at the corners. Joly is shaking, and holds forth on his clearly developing palsy to anyone who notices.

Joly is no fool; he knows what the laws of God and man say about what they are to each other. Sacrilege is only the most polite. In La Musain he makes noises about finding a pretty Evening woman and a hardworking Evening man to complete them, and hopes no one looks under the table, to where he is holding Bossuet's hand so tightly his knuckles are white.

 

* * *

 

 

Musichetta meets Joly and Bossuet in a small bar in Montmartre, where she is drinking to forget that her previous lover made off the previous night with her rent. Her friends have treated her to the drinks so she is not being irresponsible, even though she rather feels she would like to be. She spots them in a corner, drinking with friends, and thinks that perhaps she sees her chance. She finishes her drink and walks over to them. "Perhaps one of you gentlemen might be feeling generous. Would you care to buy a poor orator a drink?"

A man at the back of the group scoffs and says, "We will buy you a drink when you prove you are an orator."

Two of the men are frowning at their companion as Musichetta pulls herself up. If they want a show, she will give them one. She heard them discussing the _Déclaration des droits de l'homme et le citoyen_ as she came up to them. She opens her mouth, starts to recite, and mentally thanks God for Olympe de Gouges. By the time she is finished, one of the frowning men is laughing in delight while the other is nudging his comrade and grinning. They beckon over the maid and buy wine for Musichetta and themselves, after moving to a different table.

"I must thank you for that wonderful display, mademoiselle. It is rare for me to see such a spectacular public speaker up close," the bald man says. The gaunt one finally stops laughing to himself and bows obnoxiously to her.

"It is rare to see Beauparlant struck dumb. A true orator indeed." He smiles, then, and it transforms his face. "I would gladly furnish you with wine all night, if that would aid you in speaking more."

She learns that his name is Joly, and the bald man is Bossuet, or maybe L'Aigle - she cannot hear so well in the chaos of the bar, and there seems to be some confusion on that point - and over the course of many more drinks, she discovers that they wish for revolution and happiness above all. When she disagrees with them, they listen to her carefully, and address her arguments point by point. She agrees to meet them again.

Over the next few weeks, they meet frequently to drink and discuss the papers. Musichetta enjoys the chance to stretch her debating skills. They are discussing the greater role of France in the world when the bar closes and Joly suggests, a little shyly, that they repair to his rooms to continue their discussion.

By the time Musichetta finds herself in a clean and austere set of rooms, Bossuet is calling loudly for music. As it turns out, none of them can play an instrument, so Joly sings loudly for them, off-key but with a steady rhythm. Musichetta is dancing and Bossuet is laughing, burnished in the candlelight, and Joly doesn't know where to look. Musichetta comes closer and holds him, and she laughs as he buries his face in her hair. She feels Bossuet surround them with his arms and looks up into their faces and knows, she knows, that she will spend the rest of her life with these people.

When they come together, it is beautiful and frantic, and the wine narrows her perception so that all she can remember, even years later, are moments in time: Joly outlined by moonlight, kneeling over her; Bossuet crying out as she takes him; and his hesitant touch to Joly's stomach, as they lie sated. Joly is content and languid, and rolls over to lay a kiss on both their mouths before he falls asleep between them.

When she wakes, Joly is laid between them and his hand around Bossuet. He is rutting lazily against him, eyes opening briefly as he smiles and nuzzles against Bossuet's neck. He shifts back as Bossuet moves into him, and his back touches Musichetta. Joly stills instantly.

She looks between him and Bossuet, brow creased. Joly is frozen, Bossuet still curled up beneath the blankets. Laid here, between them, his bare skin touching hers, Joly looks as fragile and sickly as he frequently claims. Only the shortness of his breath and the rabbit-quick beating of his heart reveal his panic. He has not moved his face to look, but his eyes are fixed on her.

"Holy Mothers of God." The words slip out before she can stop them, and Joly flinches back. Next to him, Bossuet stirs and turns, holding on to Joly tightly. Joly is shaking now, and she is horrified to realise that she holds their lives in her hand. Were she to say anything, the mob would descend even before they could be tried for blasphemy. Bossuet hides his face in Joly's neck.

She wraps herself around them as though she can shield them from all the rage of church and man by herself. And, she thinks to herself as Joly breaks into hysterical sobs, she will do so, even if it leads her to the guillotine as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Most who meet them think them like Grantaire and Jehan, close as brothers and looking only for another Evening to complete their sedoretu. Sometimes Bossuet thinks the others must know, but he doesn't see the looks of disgust on their faces he expected. Musichetta wraps her arms around them like armour and walks them through Paris, as though daring anyone to challenge them. Together, they need not fear censure. With Musichetta, they are invisible, just another pair of close friends looking to make a sedoretu. Joly does what he always has and distracts anyone who might question them. And Bossuet smiles and laughs and holds them both late at night when they fear they might shake apart.

They argue over whether to tell their friends about them. Musichetta believes that they would understand. Joly fears the consequences of so many people knowing their secret. Bossuet cannot decide. He wished to believe in his friends, but his luck has never been so good. He fears to trust his life and those of his lovers to chance. He suspects they know, some of them, but he will not confirm a sin that will lead them to the guillotine.

At his wedding, Feuilly pulls him aside and tells him quietly that he's glad that they are happy. For a second, Bossuet's heart stops in his chest, but Feuilly merely lays a hand on his shoulder and repeats himself. "We are all glad that you have found happiness, L'Aigle," he says, and over his shoulder Enjolras is gazing steadily at them, hand caught in Grantaire's like he will never let go. He nods at Bossuet and turns back to his husbands. Bossuet listens to Feuilly in a daze before seeking out his own loved ones. They stand by the wall, deep in conversation, and Musichetta's laugh rings out across the room as Joly's head tips back in mirth. He joins them and Musichetta links hands with them both, bridging the gap between them. Giddy with joy, he takes Joly's hand in his own, and together they form a perfect triangle. He looks around; the only one looking their way is Jehan, who lifts the wedding goblet in a toast, grinning.

Here and now, in this room, with these people, Bossuet can believe that one day he will be able to stand up and claim those he loves for his own. He leans in towards them and rests his forehead against theirs, relieved that here, at least, they do not have to hide.


End file.
